


Rescue Me

by PhiraLovesLoki



Series: Captain Swan Tumblr Prompts [13]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 08:19:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7750285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhiraLovesLoki/pseuds/PhiraLovesLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is your date scaring the crap out of you? Are they so boring you think you might die? Did they make a casually racist comment halfway through dinner? Welcome to Hinder, the app that sets you up with an easy excuse to get the hell out of there!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescue Me

**Author's Note:**

> mryddinwilt and I spotted a Tumblr post about a made-up app called Hinder that let you cockblock people's dates. So this had to get written.

Emma couldn’t resist downloading the app. It wasn’t useful for her—she didn’t date, and she ended her fake dates with arrests, not with excuses. But the description was just too interesting to pass up.

_Is your date scaring the crap out of you? Are they so boring you think you might die? Did they make a casually racist comment halfway through dinner?_

_Welcome to Hinder, the app that sets you up with an easy excuse to get the hell out of there!_

It was simple. You could either ask for or offer a _rescue_ , which was something like a fake emergency call, and the person being rescued would get out of their date. It seemed like a decent service to provide, something that she’d just done for Mary Margaret a few weeks ago when she’d been on a date with a doctor who turned out to be a creep. The app was the same thing, just for people who didn’t have a friend checking for an SOS text.

She had no plans to _use_ it to “rescue” people. She was busy enough as it was, chasing down skips (sometimes out of town); when she actually had time to spare, she spent it with Mary Margaret. When she was working, she couldn’t guarantee she could be there for someone who needed an out, and when she was with Mary Margaret, it would have been rude to interrupt their plans.

But then, one rainy day, she had _nothing_ going on. Her boss, Lance, had insisted she have a real weekend off, and it just happened to coincide with the weekend Mary Margaret had gone to Kansas for her college roommate’s wedding. And so, halfway through an episode of _Friends_ and a pepperoni pizza, slightly bored, Emma pulled up the app and set her status as a rescuer to _Available._ She didn’t want to be _too_ available, though, so she indicated that she’d be happy to send a rescue text. No phone calls or in person rescues for her.

Three hours later, as Ross was saying “Rachel,” her phone chimed.

It was a notification from Hinder. _Will you come to my rescue?_ She opened the app.

Someone named Killian was requesting a rescue by text or phone call. The little _Rescue!_ button next to his name was flashing, which apparently meant he was still waiting on a hero to save him.

Well, it wasn’t like she had anything _else_ to do. She clicked the _Rescue!_ button, and a text box popped up, since that was the only rescue she was willing to offer. Time to get creative.

_Hey, I’m locked out of my apartment and you still have my only spare! I know you’re on a date, but if I don’t get a tampon in soon, we might have a reenactment of that scene from the Shining with the elevator!_

That should work. It was an urgent enough issue without being a true emergency, and depending on the guy’s date, entirely relatable. Her work done, she returned to the episode she’d been watching.

As the evening wore on, though, she found herself wondering what had happened. Had this Killian guy gotten out of his date successfully? Had he been grossed out by her text? Why had he needed to be rescued in the first place? Curious, she googled the app, wondering whether or not he could even contact her. Did he have her number from the text message?

 _Don’t worry!_ the app’s website reassured her. _We don’t share your contact information with other users. If you send a text or make a phone call, you do so through the application, not your phone line. Those same texts and calls are also received through the application. That’s why we need to know your handset and operating system, so that the app can mimic your texts or call screen appropriately. The text or call you receive will show up with your rescuer’s name, so it looks like someone you know is contacting you!_

That was clever, especially if safety was a concern. So that meant that she couldn’t really contact the guy. She tried not to be too disappointed; she wasn’t personally invested in the outcome anyway.

As she finished her pizza, though, her phone chimed again. She expected to see another notification asking _Will you come to my rescue?_ She’d kept her status the same, figuring she was still available if anyone else needed help. But instead, the notification said, _Thank you for saving me!_ She tapped it.

The app apparently _did_ let people contact each other, at least in a way. There was a message from Killian.

_Thanks for saving me, lass. My ex and her husband walked into the restaurant and I needed to get out of there. I do very much hope that you’re not really bleeding all over your building’s elevator. This app is one-way, so I cannot return the favor by coming to your rescue with any menstrual products._

So he _had_ gotten out of the date. And he didn’t seem that grossed out by her message. And ouch, that was a rough reason to need to be rescued.

She stared at the app for a few more moments before she realized that was the end of the interaction. She couldn’t reply—and why would she reply? She wouldn’t. There was nothing else to say. She’d rescued him from a date that needed to end early, and that was that.

By the time she was ready to call it a night, she’d had no more requests for rescues. She wasn’t surprised, really. A lot of people stuck it out when dates were bad, or, like Mary Margaret, just had a friend ready to go as an excuse. Or sometimes dates actually went _well_. And the app was relatively new, so people probably weren’t really using it, or even aware of it. It shouldn’t be surprising that she’d only gotten one request for a rescue over the course of an afternoon and evening.

But it had been kind of fun. If she ever had some free time like this again, it was worth another shot.

* * *

Four weeks later, she got home from a ridiculous morning, chasing down a particularly athletic teenager. She _hated_ tracking teens, which Lance fucking _knew_ , but August was still on vacation, and this kid had gotten herself into some serious trouble and needed to be found _immediately_ , and he’d double her paycheck for this one if she would _please_ just take care of it. And so she had, and in record time, which was impressive considering that the kid probably had a promising career in track and field.

But now her evening plans might be ruined, and she was going to _need_ that extra cash from this job, because she’d managed to sprain her ankle during the chase. She called Mary Margaret. “Hey, any chance you’d be up for skipping the whole ‘night out’ thing in favor of ordering a pizza and watching a movie at my place?”

“As much as I’d love to make a Netflix and chill joke, I think I have to cancel for real,” Mary Margaret replied.

“Oh, geez, you sound _awful.”_

“Yeah, there was a thing going around my classroom. I only just woke up.”

“Just go back to sleep! I’d offer to bring you soup but I sprained my ankle this morning.”

“Oh no! What happened.”

“Just a job. I’m fine. Anyway, go back to sleep!”

“And you stay off your feet!”

She did, after her pizza arrived. An hour of Netflix was followed by an hour of mindless internet surfing. While trolling Buzzfeed for silly listicles and quizzes, she stumbled on a somewhat serious article about the Hinder app.

For the most part, it seemed like the app hadn’t quite taken off yet, and that the article was a way for it to get a little more exposure. But there were quotes from people who’d used the app, which were all mostly positive, and there was one particularly harrowing story about a woman who’d used Hinder to get out of a date with a guy who turned out to be a serial stalker.

Emma had almost forgotten about the app, especially since she’d been too busy to use it. After last month, she’d thought about Killian a few times, but mostly in the immediate aftermath of rescuing him (well, “rescuing” him—the app was a little overdramatic). But thanks to her busted ankle and Mary Margaret’s head cold, she had the afternoon and evening free. Shrugging to no one in particular, she grabbed her phone, opened the app, and changed her status to available.

 _Text, phone call, or in person interruption?_ the app asked. In person was still absolutely out; even if she _could_ walk, that seemed like a lot of trouble.

But she remembered the research she’d done, after she’d helped Killian. Knowing that the phone call would be handled through the app made it a little less weird than actually calling a stranger’s number. And the text _had_ gone just fine. Might as well try something new, and it might not even matter anyway if the person in need of a rescue was cool with text.

She picked text and call, exited the app, and went back to Buzzfeed.

Bedtime came early that evening; she felt like an old lady, but she was exhausted from her rough morning. To make matters worse, she’d polished off the rest of the Advil that afternoon, and the only pain reliever she had was Tylenol PM. She brushed her teeth, downed the meds, and hobbled back to her bedroom. As she plugged in her phone, it chimed. Who would need a Hinder rescue at the late, late hour of … oh, it was eight o’clock.

The person in need of a rescue was … Killian? The _same_ Killian? Apparently. This time, though, he’d set _phone call_ as the only rescue option.

Sometime in the past month, the app had added a new feature: you could set a status before going out so people would know the details of your date.

_I was set up with someone I strongly suspect won’t be a good match. I warned her in advance that if I got a call, I’d have to take it. Hopefully you’re the creative type because I couldn’t think of a good explanation, apologies._

Suddenly, she felt anxious. She’d only picked the call option because she’d assumed she’d just send a text instead. She considered leaving Killian for the next rescuer; with the Buzzfeed article and everything, surely someone else was bound to step in?

She closed the app and finished getting ready for bed, which involved a lot more moving around than she’d planned when she realized she’d left the bathroom light on _and_ she hadn’t deadbolted the door.

She checked her phone one more time … and the _Rescue!_ button was still flashing. No one had called Killian. She sighed, clicked, and lay back in bed as she waited for the call to connect.

“Hello?”

“Killian?”

“Aye.”

Holy fuck, was he English?

“It’s Emma. I really hate to have to do this to you, but I’m gonna need your help after all. Only _three_ chaperones showed up and the principal is threatening to cancel the dance unless we get one more person. I know you _said_ you were free, but I heard a rumor you were on a date tonight …”

“Of course, Emma, I promised I’d help, and you know I’m not the sort to break a promise.” Yep, English. She could hear a little bit of conversation on the other end. “Hold on a moment, will you?”

“Uh, sure.” She could tell he was muffling the phone while he made his excuses to his date. She sat awkwardly in her dark bedroom, waiting for him.

“Are you still there?” He was finally back.

“Yep.”

“Sorry, I had to close the tab and bid her a farewell. I said you were still on the line because I needed directions to the school. That’s a brilliant excuse, love; I admit, I couldn’t think of a reason someone would call me at eight o’clock in the evening on a Friday.”

“Yeah, that’s rough. Hopefully this was believable enough for her.”

“I think so.”

“Why a phone call?”

“Oh, when we were first introduced, she made some comments about how rude it was when people texted while spending time with other people. The only reason I was able to access the app was that I … never mind.”

“No, now I’ve gotta know. You can’t just ‘never mind’ me, buddy.”

“I may have pressed it as she arrived, before I slipped my phone in my pocket.”

She laughed. “So you _really_ didn’t want to go on this date.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then why did you?”

“She took a liking to me, and my brother is head over heels for her sister and thought setting us up would help him get into her good graces. She’s a bit icy, that one, so it’s been difficult for him to tell where he stands with her.”

“How very noble. Now all you have to do is figure out a way to avoid rescheduling.”

“Aye, it’s too bad they don’t make an app for that.” She laughed. “This might be an awkward question, but are you the same lass that rescued me a month ago?”

“Locked out and in need of tampons? Yep, that was me.”

“That was inspired, love.”

“It didn’t gross you out?”

“Not at all; was that not clear from my feedback?”

“It was hard to tell if you were making a joke because you were feeling awkward about it, or if you actually thought it was funny.”

“I …” He paused. “I used to be married, love. I’m not afraid of menstruation.”

She chuckled. “You say it like it’s a shameful thing that you used to be married. Was, uh, was that the ex you saw last month?”

“The very same.”

“Glad I could help you get out of there. You know, some people _say_ they’re cool seeing their exes, but I think it’s bullshit.”

“Agreed. Or they say that, but only after they’ve become wildly successful and married a model.”

“Eh, even then, I think they’re all liars.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but are you all right? You sound …”

“What?”

“You sound a bit intoxicated.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I got hurt at work today and I’m out of any half-decent painkillers, so I took Tylenol PM. I guess it’s kicking in. This shit usually makes me a little drunk.”

“You’re injured?”

“It’s fine, I just sprained my ankle. You should have seen me the time this one guy punched me in the face. For, like, a week, I had strangers coming up to me telling me, ‘Honey, you don’t have to stay with him.’”

“What on earth is your line of work?”

“Bail bonds.”

“Ah.”

“Why, what do you do? What’s it like to work a job where you don’t get punched in the face?”

“I’m an engineer.”

“That sounds boring.”

“Aye, but I don’t get punched in the face.”

“It only happened once.”

“Emma, love, I think you’re falling asleep on me.”

“Sorry.” She opened her eyes, which she hadn’t realized had closed. “Didn’t mean to.”

“That’s all right. Thanks again for helping me out tonight. I’ll let you rest.”

“‘Kay. Good night, Killian.”

“Good night, love.”

When she woke up the next morning, she had a notification from Hinder. _Thank you for saving me!_ It was from Killian; she clicked.

_I hope your ankle is feeling better; I’m quite irked that I cannot deliver Advil to you. Rest up, love, and thanks again for saving me._

She also felt, as Killian put it, quite irked that she couldn’t have Advil delivered. But also that their conversation had ended, and she had no way to start it up again.

* * *

Emma stayed available on Hinder throughout the next week as her ankle healed. She managed to rescue a few people through texts, none of them Killian.

It was pretty easy, and she liked being able to help people. When she returned to work the following week, still mostly stuck on desk duty, she felt a little sad about turning the app off. But it did seem to be picking up steam, so at least there were other people around to pick up the slack when she wasn’t available.

She had begun turning the app back on when she got home from work, or when she had free time on weekends. It was happening more and more, now that Mary Margaret had met some half-decent guy, David. So Emma stayed home, read, watched Netflix, dealt with her “grown up” responsibilities like paying the bills, and rescued people on Hinder.

The app was much more commonplace now, so they’d added a new feature to determine what would happen if multiple people were available to rescue someone at the same time. You could now rate people for their cockblocking abilities, and the higher your rating was, the more likely it was that _you’d_ get a notification first when someone needed help.

Emma had inadvertently become _very_ popular for her unusual-but-effective fake emergencies. In fact, she was so popular, she was nicknamed the Savior, and had even been mentioned (by that nickname) in the latest article on the app. She was so embarrassed by the attention that she drastically scaled back her availability on the app, only turning it on on her days off, and even then, only for a few hours in the evening.

But she never saw Killian’s name pop up. And she _hated_ that it bothered her so much. Yes, he was the first person she’d helped out. And _sure_ , it was weird that he was also the second. And that they’d talked for a while on the phone after the second time; everyone else she’d rescued with a phone call had just thanked her and hung up.

And so one Saturday morning as she sat in a coffeeshop downtown, she decided that today, she’d fire up the app one last time, save as many people as she could until she went to bed, and then delete the damn thing and stop thinking about this one guy she hadn’t interacted with in months and had _barely_ interacted with in the first place. And, since she was out and about, and it was her last day and all, she might as well go all out.

_Text, phone call, in person._

No one ever wanted an in person rescue _anyway._ She’d never even rescued anyone who’d selected the option.

As she sipped her hot cocoa and messed around on her laptop, she sent several rescue texts. It was prime time for casual coffee dates; hell, there were probably people in _this_ coffeeshop who had the app on their phone, ready to go, in case their dates were duds.

Her phone chimed yet again, probably the sixth or seventh time since she’d turned on the app. Clearly, there were some _bad_ dates going on today! She clicked _Will you come to my rescue?_

Killian. Holy shit! Finally!

Finally? Hadn’t she spent a few months telling herself how ridiculous it was that she even cared?

Whatever. She quickly read over the details of the date he’d predicted he’d need to be rescued from.

_I had a mediocre time with this lass a week ago, and I think today’s date might go poorly. Unfortunately, she’s familiar with the app, thinks it’s really rude, and now suspects that every text or call getting someone out of a date is Hinder._

Huh, so that meant …

Sure enough, the only option he’d picked for his rescue was _In person._

It would be kind of funny if Killian were her first _and_ last save, right?

She clicked _Rescue!_

This time, instead of a text box or call screen popping up, there was a photo. _Here’s what Killian looks like_.

He looked … really, _really_ good, especially considering this was a tiny little selfie. Dark hair, stubble, blue eyes.

_Killian will be at: The Thinking Cup._

She nearly dropped the phone. _She_ was at the Thinking Cup. She immediately looked up and scanned the room.

Sure enough, at a table near the door, sat a man with dark hair, stubble, and blue eyes who looked like he was trying hard not to look miserable. He was sitting across from a woman whose back was to Emma.

Who, meanwhile, couldn’t do anything but think about how handsome Killian was.

No, wait, she had to rescue him. She’d already agreed to; no one else was going to get a Hinder notification. And, well, she _wanted_ to rescue him.

Thinking quickly, she packed up her belongings, placed her empty mug in the appropriate bin, tossed out her trash, and casually made her way towards the door, as if she were leaving. As she passed by the table where Killian sat, she did a very exaggerated double take. “Killian, is that _you?”_

Both he and his date turned to look at her in surprise. She had to keep talking; even if Killian realized she was his Hinder rescuer, he didn’t know she was _Emma._ “I can’t believe it!” she continued, using all of her Bail Bonds School of Acting experience to go teary-eyed. “I didn’t think we’d ever see each other again!”

He quickly caught on, and he stood to embrace her. “I can’t believe it either!” he exclaimed.

“Sorry!” she said to the date, who, she thought a little disconcertedly, looked a little too young for Killian. “I’m Emma. Killian and I were sweethearts at summer camp, like, _ages_ ago.”

“I’ve been trying to track down this woman for years,” he said, taking up the story and sounding convincingly emotional. “We just had this _spark_ , you know?”

“I just, I can’t believe you’re here!” she continued.

“Do you live in town?” he asked.

“No, I actually just flew in last night,” she lied. “I’m in my friend’s wedding tomorrow, and I’m flying out Monday morning.” She glanced down at the date, who seemed entirely confused and hadn’t even spoken since Emma had interrupted. “It’s too bad you’re busy. I only have about an hour before I have to get ready for today’s wedding activities. We’re having a spa day before the rehearsal dinner.”

His face fell. “Oh, well, I …” He awkwardly scratched at the back of his ear and looked towards his date. “I’d love to, Emma. I really would, but Aurora and I …”

“It’s okay, I mean, I can just give you my number, I guess? It sucks that I live so far away.”

“I, uh, I think maybe we could cut the date short,” Aurora said, quickly standing and grabbing her purse.

“Oh, no,” Killian said, with convincing horror. “Aurora, I’ve been having a nice time.”

“Yeah, but we can go out another time,” she said. “You only get an hour with someone you’ve wanted to see for years! I don’t want to get in the way of that. I’ll give you a call, okay?”

“Thank you,” he said. “It was lovely to see you again. I won’t forget this.”

And with that, Aurora was gone. Emma plopped herself down in the seat the other woman had vacated. “Well, that was fun.”

“The date wasn’t,” he said, sitting down as well. “Not to sound inappropriate, but I was hoping it’d be you.”

She opened her mouth to respond before realizing she had _no_ idea what to say. That she’d been thinking about him for three months? That she’d been excited to rescue him in person? That she’d really enjoyed that hug? That he smelled _really_ good?

“Sorry,” he said, blushing. “I’m sorry. That sounded awful.”

“No, it’s okay.” She looked out the front windows, but the date had definitely left. “No offense, but she seemed really young for you.”

“Aye, she’s only twenty-four,” he said. “Six year difference. One of the many reasons to hit the _Rescue me!_ button.”

“Yeah? What else?”

“I don’t wish to speak ill of someone who simply wanted to go on a few dates.”

“Oh, come on. Your little status thingy said you’d already had one bad date with her.”

“It wasn’t _bad._ Just not great. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have agreed to a second one.”

“But … I mean, you did think you might want to be rescued, so …”

“Fair point. She was condescending.”

“That’s it?”

He rolled his eyes. “Everything out of my mouth was countered with some sort of criticism. The new Star Wars was bad, the _old_ Star Wars were bad, walking around the public garden is boring, watching sports is uncultured, the art museum here is nothing compared to the Met. It was endless.”

“Do you think she suspected? That you used the app, I mean. Your thingy said she was talking shit about it.”

“I doubt it. To be honest, I’ve never heard of anyone using the in person feature. She probably wouldn’t have expected it.”

“That’s true. You know, this is the only time I’ve ever even picked in person as an option.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not. I’m planning on deleting the app tonight, so I thought I’d go out with a bang.”

“You’re deleting it?” He seemed concerned. “Why? Is it the whole ‘Savior’ thing? I admit that seems a bit much.”

“I just … I mean, I don’t mind. Usually it’s a fun thing to do when I’m bored and have free time.”

“But?”

“I don’t want to say,” she said quickly.

He raised an eyebrow, and then a smile crept onto his face. “You don’t?”

She felt her cheeks burning. “No.”

“You wanted to see me again,” he said triumphantly.

She glared at him. “This is the first time I’m seeing you.”

“Talk to me, then,” he corrected. “You enjoyed our conversation as much as I did.” He leaned forward, elbows on the small table. “And you’ve spent the past several months refusing to delete this ridiculous app because it was the only way we might find each other again.”

She was about to retort that he was wrong, even though he wasn’t, when she realized something. “How many bad dates did you go on?” He blushed furiously and leaned back a little, and she chuckled.

“I didn’t _intentionally_ go on bad dates,” he argued. “My brother loves to set me up, especially now that he has a girlfriend.”

“Oh, so that worked out?”

“Aye, and ever since, between his pool of acquaintances and connections, and the online dating profile he set up for me behind my back, I’ve been busy testing out every first date scenario known to humankind. I did use the app several times, and yes, I admit, I always hoped you’d be the one to come to my aid. But I know that people often have the app off. It was just …”

“It was weird that I answered the call twice.”

“The first two times I ever used the app.”

“Really?”

“Aye.”

“Me, too.”

“You’re joking.”

“No.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t understand why it took so long to find you.”

“I don’t either. I had the app on! Not _all_ the time, but plenty of evenings and weekends.”

“I didn’t use it every date,” he admitted. “But I must have used it five or six times over the past few months. You know, there _is_ a reason you’re the Savior. Other people are rubbish at it. One person called me to say my mother was in the hospital, even though my date already knew that my mother had passed away years ago.”

“Yikes! I mean, here’s the thing: it has to be something reasonable that’s _not_ an actual emergency. That’s a classic example of a bad fake emergency. It’s too easy to mess up, and way too dramatic.”

“Admittedly, your interruption today was a _little_ dramatic.”

“Well, I had to invent it on the fly,” she admitted. “I do have to do that sometimes at work, like if someone recognizes me but doesn’t realize I’m working, and they try to talk to me. A friend of a friend once interrupted me while I was in the middle of a honey trap—you know, get all dressed up and go on a date with a bail skip who thinks you’re just some hot chick, and then you apprehend them.”

He chuckled. “That’s rather awkward. Though now I wonder, did you ever have your skip use Hinder to end the fake date early?”

“Nah. I do my hair and make-up and dress to the nines. It’s not like I show up, well … like this, I guess.”

“You make a fair point, love. How dreadful. Just give me a moment.” He made a big display of taking out his phone and, screen tilted towards her very intentionally, opening Hinder. “Now, who shall I ask to rescue me from this gorgeous and engaging woman sitting across from me?”

“Better ask for an in person rescue. She seems like she might be familiar with that app.”

“She very much is.” He paused. “I can’t quite take this joke any farther,” he admitted.

“That’s okay, it was still pretty good.”

“You’re much too generous. Rescuing me from a bad date _and_ pretending my joke was funny. The least I can do is treat you to coffee. And, uh, perhaps clear away what was left of said date’s.” It was only then that Emma realized her hand kept curling around someone else’s half-finished cup of coffee.

“Oh, I mean, that’s okay,” she said, stumbling over her words a little. “I’ve actually been here for, like … a couple hours, chilling on my laptop.”

“You were already _here?”_ he asked incredulously. “You mean to tell me that I chose the same coffeeshop you were sitting in?”

“I guess, if you picked this place.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Well, then I _have_ to take advantage of the situation.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said as he stood and cleared away Aurora’s coffee and half-eaten croissant, “that it took us months to find each other again, and you’re about to delete the application. If this is the last chance I have to enjoy your company, then I bloody well intend to make the most of it.”

He bused the dishes quickly, like she might run out the door while his back was turned. “Now, Aurora and I were meeting for a quick cup of coffee, but given that it’s almost noon, wouldn’t you say that it’s lunchtime?” She stared at him for a few seconds before she nodded. “So, what shall I order for you?”

“Uh, grilled cheese would be great.”

“And anything to drink?”

“Their hot cocoa is pretty good.”

“Aye, it is. I’ll be just a moment; feel free to put the details into Hinder if you’re feeling nervous.”

She laughed out loud at the comment. Whether it was that she didn’t even know how to use Hinder to request a rescue, that she was actually (somewhat accidentally) on a date for the first time in years, or that she was on a date where she wouldn’t even _want_ to use the app, she wasn’t sure. But when Killian returned from the counter, her phone was still safely tucked in her bag.

And his stayed safely tucked in his pocket for the rest of the afternoon, as they ate their sandwiches and drank their hot beverages, as they walked around the public garden, as they window shopped on Newbury Street, as they ate dinner at a restaurant they both loved, as they grabbed dessert at her favorite ice cream shop, as they grabbed drinks at his favorite bar.

Neither one of them pulled out their phones at all until the next evening, shortly before Killian left her apartment. And neither one of them could suppress their grins as they each entered in the other’s number, as they made plans to see each other the following night, as they couldn’t stop sharing one more goodbye kiss, or as they both deleted the app.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! I'd love to know what you think.


End file.
